Chapter Nineteen
Victoria’s Secret Runway Show
The Armory, Lexington Avenue
New York City
Her hands were shaky as she adjusted the skimpy fantasy bra and matching panties she had on. What she had on was the show’s piece de resistance. All twenty-million dollars worth of it. It was mighty uncomfortable, though.
She was careful whenever she moved around, keeping in mind that it was a multi million-dollar creation and a work of art by itself. It took an army of jewelers several months to execute the final design. The lingerie was studded with five thousand precious stones--diamonds, rubies, emeralds and sapphires. Which explained the need for armed guards.
She patiently waited backstage. Ten more models would strut their stuff on the catwalk before her cue. It won’t be long.
She could feel herself growing nervous as her time neared.
Calm down, she told herself. She wriggled her hands to loosen up. She absent-mindedly adjusted the huge trademark VS angel wings. This year, the feathered contraptions were dyed black.
Black seemed to be the color of the season, said the fashion insiders.
But fashion was on the bottom of her list. She had a lot of things on her mind. In fact, she was still reeling from the discovery that would complicate her life forever.
Getting up from bed that morning had been extremely difficult. Any sudden movement, no matter how small, made her sick.
The nausea started yesterday. It was so bad that she practically heaved until noon. Luckily it was a weekend so she could afford to stay in bed.
She remembered opening her eyes before she got overwhelmed with the metallic taste of acid and bile. She jumped from the bed and barely made it to the bathroom, where she regurgitated her dinner until there was nothing left to to throw up.
Same thing happened this morning. She was so sick she feared she won’t be able to make it for tonight’s show. Thankfully, her stomach settled after she ate crackers and drank mild tea. Google was a lifesaver.
She was still trying to gather the courage to get herself a pregnancy test from the pharmacy. But even without the results, she knew it in her gut.
She was pregnant. She was going to be a mother.
She wasn’t sure how far along she was because she had yet to see an OB. She would. Soon.
She had all the early signs and symptoms. The missed period, tender breasts, unexplained fatigue, weird food cravings and of course, the dreaded morning sickness.
She closed her eyes and saw Lonzo’s face in her mind’s eye—the way he looked when they parted ways over a week ago. He had been insatiable that day—he kept her up, took her repeatedly until the wee hours of the morning. She kept on yawning and could barely keep her eyes open when she went for the final fitting.
She knew it was wrong for her to take him for a ride, but he made her so angry when he made that offer. All she wanted was to teach him a lesson on valuing people. She intended to donate the money to the charity and orphanages she was supporting in Brazil. Afterward, she would mail the receipts, all under his name, back to him. That was the plan.
But now the situation had changed.
She was going to have his baby.
Even this early, she already loved this growing piece of humanity with a fierceness that astounded her.
The fact that she was expecting was a big surprise. Lonzo was a practitioner of safe sex. Putting on protection was almost a religious act for him. He diligently used condoms when they were on the island. And to minimize the risk, she continued to take her pills.
For all their precautions, this child still came to be.
Will he want his baby?
But in her heart, she already knew the answer.
He probably wouldn’t. He never wanted to settle down. He was extra-careful not to become a father. The media had quoted him numerous times on that subject. He said he had no plans of procreating. His attitude put a lot of doubts on her mind on whether he was emotionally capable of being a father.
For now, she decided to keep news of her pregnancy to herself.
It doesn’t matter if she didn’t have her baby daddy’s support. She didn’t need him in her life and she didn’t need his presence in raising her child. Millions of single moms had done it before. She would be one of them. She would be keeping this baby.
A huge lump formed in her throat when she gently placed her hand over her still flat tummy. Self-pity enveloped her for a moment but she determinedly pushed it away.
Don’t worry, kiddo You may not have a dad…but I have enough love for two. We’ll be all right.
“Places!” the production manager’s voice jerked her mind back to the VS show.
She stood up and made her way toward the runway’s entrance.
The last of the models made their way out.
“You’re up next, J…now, go!”
She drew a long, steady breath. She emptied her mind, tried to find her center.
She took the first step forward, toward the start of the long runway. It was dark at first...her eyes couldn’t see any of the people in attendance. But she knew it was a packed show. This was one of the biggest marketing events on the planet.
Then klieg lights hit her hard. The spotlight almost blinded and made her blink as it began to follow her. Luckily she had enough practice and knew this particular runway like the back of her hand.
Her initial nervousness began to drain from her. Her signature walk was steady and assured, despite the dangerously high Roberto Cavalli glass stilettos she wore.
Another spotlight hit rock god Zeke Blade, lead singer of Torquecrash. He began to sing a stripped-down version of one of his rare ballads.
She smiled as she continued to glide seductively, the sway of her hips was spot on with Zeke’s soulful voice.
Eyes were glued on her. Men openly undressed her in their minds as her perfect figure walked past, while the women in the crowd were covetous of the gems on this fantasy set.
She hardly noticed, intent in giving justice to the magnificent showpiece. She personified sexiness and grace.
When she made her final turn, the audience jumped to their feet and gave her what most models would have traded their false eyelashes for—a standing ovation.
A mix of emotions engulfed her—elation, sadness and relief.
Tonight was her final catwalk appearance.
She would leave this world behind and disappear.
VI Headquarters, Rome
One week later
The little bitch pulled a fast one on him.
This was the first thing that came to mind when he was informed that Jordana Almueda failed to show up at the airport. He immediately rang Blackwell.
Half an hour passed before he received a call from his chief security guy, who gave him the info he needed.
She left the States on a chartered flight to London three days ago.
From thereon, she disappeared. Without a trace.
He toyed the paperweight on top of his desk, his anger growing with each passing minute.
He’d been duped. Again.
He laughed bitterly.
He waited for her like an idiot. He had his villa readied for their reunion. He’d shopped for gifts. He almost went crazy counting down the days. Shit, he even counted the minutes.
He sported blue balls for days because he refused to jerk off. He wanted her that bad. He thought she would honor their agreement.
Cazzo! He should have known!
“I’ll fly to London first then take the connection to Rome,” her lying lips said when he took her to the airport more than a week ago.
He had insisted that she use his jet but she swiftly declined. She told him she had to settle something with an affiliate agency in London.
He believed her. He fell for her con.
Because he thought with his cock, not his head.
Fuck!
He rubbed his temples.
There must be a reason for her caper.
The possibility that she might have been kidnapped came up. For a minute, that worried him.
But if that were the case, Bastian would’ve informed the authorities of her disappearance. There was no media blitz happening and it had been days.
Then why did she pull this stunt? And why hadn’t she cashed the check yet?
He’d get the answers out of her but he had to find her first.
Blackwell would find her for him soon. She can’t evade him forever.
When that happens, she would be at his mercy. He would punish her, that was a certainty. The severity depended on how she would reason herself out of this one.
For now, he’d grit his teeth and deal with her haunting image in his head.
He can handle it when he was with business associates during the day. But it was pure torture at night. That incredible time they had a week ago kept playing in his mind.
He was losing precious sleep over her. He was becoming pathetic.
Maybe he should leave Rome for a while. Go skiing at the Swiss Alps or play at the gaming tables of Monaco. He was quick to dismiss the idea. Thinking about it bored him already.
Fuck, even his sex life was suffering. He did try, but his cock wouldn’t cooperate. He couldn’t even get it up.
“Shit!” he cussed as he tossed the paperweight across the room in frustration. He needed to do something to keep his sanity.
But it was no use. Nothing occupied his mind except her.
Was she with Chris or another man? Were she cavorting around naked?!
The thought made him see red.
Fuuuuuuuck!
Frustrated, he turned to his computer and began to check his emails. Like the paperwork on his desk, his unread emails had accumulated, numbering into a thousand or so unread items. Most of the emails were meeting updates and daily market trends and these he immediately trashed, cutting the number into half. He made a few more clicks to filter and sort his email by date.
The first unopened item went back to the day he left for the vineyard.
A particular email stood out. It came from Blackwell. It was a supplementary report on Jordana. He recalled that Patrizia tried to get him to read a printed copy of the same report but he was in such a hurry to get to her that it slipped his mind. His heart began to race. He was about to open the attachment when his phone rang.
“What?!” he barked at his assistant for the interruption.
Patrizia cleared her throat. “It’s your uncle on line one, Mr. Vitale. Shall I put him through?”
Great. Since the papers got hold of the story about his split with Jordana, Thio Fredo never forgot to remind him that he was the fool of the century for letting her walk away.
He was in no mood for another verbal onslaught from the old man today. “Tell him I’m busy,” he ordered.
“I already told him that, sir—” his secretary calmly replied. “He didn’t believe me.”
“Then think of something! What am I paying you for if you can’t even—” he went on irritably.
“—he said it’s about Ms. Almueda and it’s imperative that he speak with you.”
The mere mention of Jordana’s name was enough to change his mind.
What did I tell you? You’re pathetic, Vitale.
“Put him through.”
There was a click before he heard the raspy voice of his uncle on the other line.
“You watching the television, boy?”
What?
“No, Thio. I’m still at the office.”
“You got one hooked up in your office, am I right?”
“Yes. Don’t tell me you called just to ask my viewing habits?! I’m in the middle of something here—” he said crabbily.
There was a long silence from the other end.
“Jordana is in the news.”
“She’s always in the news, Thio. Look, I can’t chat with you right now. I’m busy—”
“Well, nipote...how about this? She quit.”
“She quit what?”
“Hmp! Would love to tell you the details but you’re too busy. So, ciao!”
And the line went dead.
He was dumbfounded.
He hastily got a hold of the remote of the LED screen in his office and switched it on. He began to scan the news channels.
And there it was.
A RAI newscast showed a clip of Leandro Bastian’s press conference announcing her retirement from modeling.
The press were wild with their questions.
“Is she going to rehab?” one reporter asked.
Bastian was visibly irked. “Jordana is not a substance abuser. Never was. And she’s too sensible to be one. So that’s a stupid question.”
“Is she pregnant?”
“Have you seen her at the recent VS show?” Bastian barked his reply.
“Yes.”
“Did she look pregnant to you?”
The reporter who asked, grinned.
“Right. Next question…” the manager said dismissively.
“Is she getting married?” another queried.
Lonzo held his breath.
“No. She’s not.”
“Can you explain why she suddenly decided to retire at the height of her career?”
“Ms. Almueda has been working since she was barely in her teens. She feels that she needs to focus more on her other interests now. She wishes that her privacy and decision be respected,” he heard Bastian say. And with that, the conference came to an end.
The news stunned him.
Where the hell was she?!
Ludgvan,
Cornwall, England
Contrary to what others thought, the English countryside was a great place to disappear in, she mused. That was, if you know how to blend in.
She’d been staying at this secluded part of England for four months now, since she announced her “retirement”. She lay low, kept mostly to herself—she only went out when necessary. To keep human contact to a minimum, she had arranged for her supplies to be delivered at her doorstep and paid for necessities in cash.
On her first month here, she was scared and fidgety. She feared someone might see through her disguise and report her whereabouts to the press. So far, her redhead wig effectively hid her identity. No media had managed to trace her here.
The few villagers whom she met took her presence at face value. They didn’t pry and kept their distance. She must’ve looked like a struggling soon-to-be single mom.
And of course, she also used an assumed name.
A few months passed before she felt secure enough to lower her guard a bit, venturing to the village once a week to see the village doctor for her pre-natal checkups.
As she approached her sixth month, her pregnancy became obvious.
During her last visit, her doctor cautioned her to take extra care.
“Your blood pressure is a bit up, my dear—” Dr. Meredith Cliburn remarked after checking her vitals.
She was alarmed but the doctor pacified her fears quickly.
“It’s gestational hypertension. Sometimes it happens to women who are in the latter stage of their pregnancy.”
“Will it affect my baby?” she anxiously asked.
The lady doctor gave her a direct look. “Normally, gestational hypertension will not cause problems when managed and treated promptly.”
“What do I need to do?”
“We have to constantly monitor and manage your blood pressure so that it does not turn to pregnancy-induced hypertension.”
“Isn’t that… eclampsia?” she said with dread.
“No. But it may lead to that if unchecked. If untreated, it can lead to low birth rate, premature delivery and worse, there is a risk of you and the baby dying.”
She paled.
The doctor allayed her fears. “As I’ve said, we need to take steps to make sure you and the baby remain healthy.”
The doctor put her on a special diet and prescribed her additional supplements.
Since then, she’d been extra careful with what she ate.
She cut her sugar intake and indulged in her food cravings every two weeks.
This month, it was chocolate éclairs.Today was one of her “village outing” days and she dropped by the coffee shop to buy the pastry.
“Here you go, miss,” the coffee shop attendant smiled as he gave her the éclairs.
“Thanks,” she smiled back.
“You want a hot beverage to go with that?”
“Uhm…thank you, but no,” she declined, still smiling as she turned to leave, walking toward her Mini Cooper parked outside the shop.
She searched for her car keys in her bag.
She carefully drove back to Robin’s Nest, the cottage where she was staying.
The cottage was originally a 19th-century barn. It was lovingly restored by its current owner, a reclusive local artist, into a habitable dwelling. It was he who leased the property to her for a year.
When she saw pictures of the cottage on the internet, she was immediately drawn to it for some reason or another. It was detached from the main property and tucked behind tall iron gates and hedgerows. Best of all, it had a four-acre private landscaped garden that featured a terraced lawn, perennial flowers, exotic plants and shade trees.
It was right in the middle of Penzance at St. Ives. It was near the beaches and well-known coastline spots. It was also about five-minute ride from Mount’s Bay. The location was perfect for a nature junkie like her. Best of all, the fresh air was good for the baby, too.
Fifteen minutes later, she carefully parked her small car in the gravel-lined, secluded driveway.
As she entered the cottage, she was greeted by the warmth of the house, courtesy of the newly-installed storage heater. Though small, the cottage had enough modern provisions to make everyday living comfortable: flat screen tv, dvd player, microwave, electric oven and even internet access.
She went straight to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of milk before carefully walking over to the dining table to enjoy the pastries she had bought.
She got her appetite back, unlike in the early days of her pregnancy.
She was beginning to get that “glow” that pregnant women have.
She felt her baby move and kick inside her large, rounded middle. Someone’s awake early, she thought with a smile as she rubbed her tummy lovingly.
“Hello, kiddo. We’re having mommy’s favorite eclairs.”
The baby gave another happy kick in response, which made her giggle.
Another thought crossed her mind and made her sigh.
She gave everything for her child but she never felt an ounce of regret.
She remembered her last catwalk appearance at the VS show. She escaped the aftershow party and was relieved when no one noticed her departure. She hailed a cab to take her to her house.
There was no bothersome paparazzi waiting for her. Instead, she found Leandro’s Mercedes roadster parked on the street.
She dreaded meeting him like this but it was now or never. She had to come clean with him. She owed him that, at least.
After paying her cab fare, she saw Leandro walking to meet her.
“Leandro—”
Her friend regarded her.
“I called your publicist at the show. Seemed you pulled out your ninja tricks and she can’t find you anywhere. I had a hunch you’d be here.”
“You know me too well.”
“Why were you avoiding me?”
She sighed as she took her keys out of her satchel and opened her apartment.
“I’d rather not discuss it here.”
She signaled him to come inside.
Leandro followed. As soon as she switched the lights on, he saw her haunted appearance. He knew who caused her distress.
He embraced her tightly.
“It’s Vitale, isn’t it? He did this to you.”
Her throat tightened, her eyes stung from the unshed tears. Her emotions finally gave way.
Leandro represented comfort and security. And that day she needed friendly, comforting arms around her. He was her safe haven.
She nodded, sobbing her pain on his shoulder.
“That fucking sonofabitch! He blackmailed you, did he?!” he roared.
She nodded.
“You were scammed by Maddoff. Lonzo knew this, knew you were vulnerable…that you have liquidity problems. With the credit crunch, banks were tightfisted with money. He was convinced I sold the pictures to the press. He wanted to get even—”
“By blackmailing you to be his—”
She blushed at his frankness. “I was never his mistress. But—”
“The sonofabitch lusted after you,” he finished for her. “He blackmailed you and threatened he would ruin me. Am I right?”
She nodded again. She’d never seen him this angry before.
“I knew it! I should have trusted my instincts when a ‘white knight’ investor came from nowhere and offered me money! I should have smelled something was amiss, especially when the company gave me a sweet deal for nothing in return!”
She bit her lower lip.
Leandro swung at her, guilt and frustration in his face. “You should have told me from the very start, Dana. You didn’t have to…”
“And see you in jail? Or bankruptcy court? No, Leandro…being with him was a small price to pay.”
He held her shoulders before he tipped her chin up with a hand.
“It wasn’t your responsibility to protect me. I have other assets that I can liquidate. I had mining rights in Australia which could cover the losses.”
“Oh.”
“I should have protected you from that Italian slime.”
“I am a grown woman, Leandro. You can’t coddle me forever,” she told him.”I take responsibility for my actions.”
She couldn’t tell him about the baby. Not yet. She feared that may push him to do something drastic to defend her honor.
“I failed you. It was my responsibility to protect you and I didn’t.”
“Leandro—”
“You’re my sister,” he blurted. “Brothers take care of their sisters. Not the other way around.”
She smiled through her tears. “I know. Thank you for treating me like your own all these years.”
“No, Dana. You don’t understand…you’re really my blood sister. I’m your brother,” he said, his eyes very serious. “We’re siblings.”
She was dumbfounded at his revelation. “What?! You’re joking, right?”
He dropped his hands from her, tucking his hands at the pockets of his woolen slacks.
“It’s the truth. We share the same father. Though I only found out when I met you at the orphanage.”
“I don’t understand…how?!” she said in disbelief.
“I was born out of wedlock. My mother died before she was able to get hold of…our father. Her relatives gave me away at the orphanage after she had me because they were ashamed of her indiscretion. She was the daughter of a Sao Paolo politician. My birth have besmirched their clean name.” He said the last words with a sneer.
“Leandro—”
“I already knew who sired me before you came to the Casa…I planned to seek our father out when I came of age.”
She looked at him with sad eyes. “I’m glad you didn’t. He became a shell after my mother went off with another man. All he did was drink and rage how life was so unfair to him—”
“I know, kiddo. Otherwise, I could’ve killed him after learning what he did to you. When I first saw you at the orphanage, being escorted by the welfare workers, I felt drawn to you…I can’t explain it.”
“How did you find out our connection?”
“I overheard the caseworkers mention our father’s name. I also broke into the records section to read your file.”
Leandro embraced her tightly then, and she held on to him. It was so natural, the feeling of acceptance that engulfed her entire being. Deep inside, she knew the truth before he voiced it. He was her security blanket, her defender growing up. It all made sense.
“But why did you wait until now to tell me?” she asked in afterthought.
He stilled. “I really don’t know. Maybe, it was irrational fear. That you’d hate me for being the spawn of the man who abused you.”
“I can never hate you, Leandro. You’ve always been my brother,” she said as she found herself crying again. “I’m glad you really are. Now I have someone. We have each other.”
After she had calmed down, he informed her that he can come up with the money to pay Lonzo back. A big portion of his environmentally-designed homes took off, especially in hurricane-prone areas. Thanks mainly to a well-publicized project with Brad Pitt’s foundation, his well-designed, green projects caught the interest of an untapped segment of the real estate market that demanded eco-friendly dwellings. The best part was, people were willing to pay extra.
“With the initial investments alone, we had enough to cover for the amount that was swindled by Maddoff and enough money to finish the new projects. I can write a check for the amount given by Vitale plus interest.”
Leandro took out his checkbook, scribbled the amount and tried to give it to her. “You can tell him to shove it in his ass. He’d better stay away from you from now on.”
She shook her head. “Leandro—”
“Take it, Dana. If he as much as look at you, I’ll bury him. Do it for me…please?”
Jordana gave her brother a big hug. “Pay him through your lawyers, if you must. I don’t want to see him.”
“You’re right. I just want to take care of you. You’re my baby sister. My only family.”
She nodded in agreement. She felt the same. She wasn’t alone anymore. She had a big brother. A family to call her own. And with the baby coming…
“I need to leave,” she said.
He didn’t reply but gave her a quizzing look.
She explained her plan to retire. She reasoned she got burned up—physically and emotionally.
“I want to find myself. Travel the world like Julia Roberts in Eat, Pray, Love.”
“You’re not planning on becoming a female Buddhist monk, aren’t you?”
She smiled. ‘Of course not, silly!”
He gave an exaggerated sigh of relief.
“But I’m thinking of the legal implications—” she voiced out.
“I’ll take care of the negotiations with the agency. I’ll buy out your contract if the need arises. But I don’t think it will come to that because it’s up for renewal, anyway.”
Hearing that eased her anxiety.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“I have no idea yet”.
That made him frown.
“But—” he immediately became worried.
“I’ll be okay, I can handle this. Just promise me one thing…”
“What, kiddo?”
“Don’t let him find me.”
His expression became grim. “You can bet on it,” he swore.
Up to now, Leandro had been true to his word.
But as her delivery date drew nearer, she knew she must tell her brother the truth.
She dreaded to see the disappointment in his eyes, though.
She took another bite of eclair as she thought of ways to break the news of her pregnancy to her ultra-protective sibling.